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He chuckles, and hot damn, the sound is so masculine, so growly that it tugs at my nerve endings.
He pulls on his clothes, and yes, I want to watch those muscles flex and bend. Instead, I get dressed. Under the sheet it's challenging, but I manage. I toss aside the sheet and turn to find him smirking.
"What?"
He holds up his hands. "Can't I look at you without getting called out for it?"
"You'd never do anything as innocent as just 'looking.'" I toss my hair over my shoulder. "More like, you’re already planning on how to get me out of these clothes."
He looks me up and down. "I could always ask you to undress," he drawls.
"And I could always refuse."
His grin widens. Damn him, he knows that if he orders me to take off my clothes, I'll have a hard time refusing. His gaze intensifies, and my pulse rate kicks up. The space between us seems to thicken with unspoken emotions. My belly flip-flops. Heat flushes my skin, and suddenly I feel like I have too many clothes on. Damn it, another minute or so and I'd probably strip without his asking. I tear my gaze away from him, then walk over to the window and glance out at the completely white world. The snow is still coming down in thick tufts, and visibility is less than a meter.
It’s so silent, so calm.
The heat of his body curls over my back, and I stiffen.
"Beautiful, isn’t it?" His voice sounds from somewhere above me. "We could be the only two people left in this world."
"Except, we’re not. We’d best try to contact your family; they must be worried about us."
“I spoke to them earlier today.”
"You did?" I glance at him over my shoulder.
"I woke up earlier, but you were out of it. So, I let you sleep. Checked on the status of our phones." He nods to where the devices are laid out in front of the fire. "Luckily, mine is water–resistant, and it had enough charge left that I could speak to Michael."
"What’d he say?"
"We are in the middle of a snowstorm, apparently. They haven’t had so much snow in so little time in the last hundred years."
"That’s what the weather guys do best: exaggerate." I sniff. "So, the next thing you’re going to tell me is that we are cut off, no one can come to get us, and we can’t leave because the way to get to them is treacherous?"
He blinks and looks surprised. "How did you guess?"
"I’ve watched enough Christmas holiday movies to know that’s the most likely scenario here."
"That’s what Michael told me. He also said that we should stay put here until they can send help," he adds.
"Which would be when? Tomorrow? The day after?"
"As soon as the weather clears."
"Which would be?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." He scowls. "I don’t have a crystal ball and no access to news or the weather."
"A likely story." I huff. "This must be a ploy for you to keep us here. In fact," I prop my hand on my hip, "I’ll bet it was you who put Nonna up to this stupid treasure hunt."
"Scavenger hunt."
"Whatever," I snap, "and it must have been you who decided to team us up together."
"That was fate," his jaw hardens, "and believe me, it’s not like I was happy about it either."
"After the way you crept into my room two nights ago, you expect me to believe that?"
